


Crossdressing

by Silencing



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-23
Updated: 2012-11-23
Packaged: 2017-11-19 07:38:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/570810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silencing/pseuds/Silencing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason goes undercover on a gang bust, and Dick has more than a few reservations about it.  Still, he can't complain about the scenery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossdressing

You do just about anything you can to survive when you’re out on Gotham’s streets. I should know – I grew up out there. I don’t mean to sound like a tough guy, but I’ve got more ground-level experience under my utility belt than Batman or his former Boy Wonder, and that makes me strong. I know every inch of this city like a kid knows his mother. She raised me, after all.

That’s why, when Bruce asked me to don a different kind of costume to do a little recon, he was the one hesitating. I guess the way I act makes it seem like I’d argue with him about this, but this won’t be the first time I’ve pulled on a skirt to get a job done. Besides, Gotham’s extended family of abandoned children has its fair share of queens, and they’ve always been nothing but nice to me. Every street kid has to have his fairy god gay, right? 

I wish he wasn’t sending Dick in with me, though. This is a one-man job, and he’s going to blow our cover with his sparkly smile and good grammar. Hopefully we can grab what we need and go before we attract too much attention. That’s what the skirt’s for, anyway.

—

I still don’t think this is a two-man job. First off, it’s demeaning having Bruce pull me for this after being ignored for months. Mostly because I scamper right back to his feet when he so much as coughs in my direction. Good ‘ol Dick Grayson, ready to drop everything for a guy who’s turned him out half a dozen times for trying to have a mind of his own. Oh well. If Jaybird needs the help, what can I say? I’m a sucker like that.

I’m just glad I get to do this as Nightwing, and not Dixie Grayson. Jason put up remarkably little fuss as far as I can tell, and that’s surprising. I think he still likes to pretend we’re not actually having sex. But I guess that’s fair, considering the macho culture he grew up in. 

We’re at a drag club downtown, and I confess it’s the first time I’ve been to a place like this. Some scumbag is blackmailing the girls here, and a few have gone missing over the past couple of weeks, probably down on the bottom of the harbor somewhere. The depths people will go to be horrible to one another still surprises me, and this isn’t even the worst I’ve seen.

I’ve got a birds-eye view of the whole place from a skylight on the roof. Jason’s working the crowd down below, and from what I can see he’s doing a good job of it. The plan is to have him spook our man, and when he tries to make an escape, I’ll be there to stop him. In the meantime, I’ve got some good entertainment. Not just the girls on the stage, though they’re pretty talented - watching Jay is pretty distracting.

—

I know he’s up there, watching me like a creep. That’s ok, let him look. I just hope he’s paying enough attention to make a move when he needs to.

To get these queens to open up, you have to play by their rules. The world’s more dangerous for them than any of us, especially people like me, so you have to make concessions. You have to see things from their point of view. Some street kid strapping on heels could be doing so in earnest, or could be looking for a way to hurt some people.

Some of the girls know who I am, though, and soon enough it’s a big reunion. I’m happy to be here, with these people, and for a little while I forget that I’m here for a reason and just enjoy the company. No one expects any more out of me than they did the carjacker that disappeared six months ago, and that’s a good feeling. I have nothing to live up to here. I’m already doing a lot better. In fact, I start to feel a little guilty, playing them like this. Are they going to be able to forgive me when I drop the act? 

A few hours into the evening, I finally get a lead on our guy. He’s some two-bit pimp, trying to claw his way a little higher by using drag queens instead of little girls. Considering some of these drag babies are younger than me, I don’t consider it a moral improvement. It takes all of me not to go after him myself when I hear some of the stories. Maybe Dick will leave me a piece for later. 

—

Taking out the trash takes a matter of minutes. He spills his guts as soon as I drop down on him, throwing me every big name in the book to try and save his own ass. It’s probably not good information, but I make a note of it anyway. These small-time crooks always lead to bigger fish, and that’s what Bruce is after. Once the Gotham PD has him safely in hand and I’ve passed on a few choice leads, I head off to hook back up with Jason.

I find him down a nearby alley, taking his shoes off. His legs look amazing, even without the boost from the heels, and I wonder why I’d never noticed them this much. It’s not like his regular costume has much more in the way of coverage. 

“You might want to close your mouth before a fly buzzes in – you really don’t want to swallow one of these suckers,” he says, every ounce of snarky Jaybird in his voice despite the uncharacteristic exterior. I do what he says, embarrassed. 

“How’d you ever let him talk you into this?” I ask, too curious to shelve the question that’s been poking at me all night. “I mean, great job down there, but if I had to guess your willingness to crossdress, I’d have put it at about negative ten.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Wonder Bread,” he smirks, and there’s something about his expression – a challenge, a taunt – that pulls me right to him. Before I even know what my hands are doing they’re up under his skirt, and his legs are around my waist, and I’m drowning in the taste of his mouth and the smell of his perfume. I can’t stop touching him, grabbing him everywhere, feeling the contrast of his hard, resilient body and the smooth silk of his borrowed finery. 

“You really went all the way, didn’t you?” I laugh, breathless, as we pull apart, my fingers tugging at the waist of his too-small panties. “Did you plan this?”

“I might have,” he purrs in a tone that makes my knees weak, and then he’s devouring me again, pulling my hair, riding me through my suit. He’s the one in the skirt, but he’s also undeniably in control, and when he pushes my hand between his legs and growls ‘fuck me’ in my ear, I know that his display tonight was mostly for my benefit. 

He pushes me fast, demanding more before his body feels ready for it, but if I’m hurting him he wants that, too. A part of my brain admires the athleticism he’s developed these past months, the way his muscles hold him taut between my body and the wall with hardly any effort. The rest of me just wants to be inside of him as fast as he wants to be filled. 

I shouldn’t be surprised when he pulls a little packet of lube and a condom out of his stuffed bra, but I have to laugh anyway, my voice sounding giddy and absurd in my ears. He moves down off the wall to free my cock for me, and when he takes me between those rouged lips I have to push him back, afraid I’ll come too soon. He grins up at me, heart-stoppingly perfect, and rolls the condom down over my cock with one long, slow, smooth push of his lips, and it’s all I can do to keep myself from thrusting down his throat.

I pick him back up and rut against him, looking down between us to watch the way his erection pushes up against the silk of his panties. He’s saying something, cursing at me, pulling me closer with his legs, but there’s a buzzing in my ears and my vision has narrowed down to nothing but the place where our bodies press together. I feel him move me into place, and then I’m inside of him, swallowed up in his tight heat, and the buzzing becomes his wild cry of pleasure.

I don’t know how long it takes, rocking back and forth, pushing so deep into him it feels like we’re one person. Time seems to stop, but I’m sure it can’t be more than minutes, not with the way he tightens up around me every time I pull back, with the way his cock rubs against my stomach and the tone of his voice when I push in deep. 

I come first, like I always do, and he holds me inside while he brings himself to climax with his own hand, leaving an obscene stain on his silk and lace.

We stand pressed together for a long time, shaking, panting, holding one another, but as usual he’s the first one to pull away. I can feel myself getting hard again already when he pulls off of me. 

“Are you going to be ok walking home?” I ask him, genuinely concerned with the state of his clothing, but he just laughs at the remark and chucks his heels into a nearby dumpster.

“If I couldn’t keep up with you after getting fucked, Dickie-bird, I might as well quit the whole vigilante thing right now.”

It’s true. He has no trouble following me over rooftops back to my apartment. In the dark, this late, no one’s there to see what a ridiculous pair we make: Nightwing and his agile drag queen companion, giddy from sex, more wrapped up in one another than either of us wants to admit.

I know the night’s not done yet, either. Bruce will have to wait for his recon.


End file.
